


Close Call

by justdk



Series: Andreil Week 2019 [2]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Andreil Week 2019, Concussions, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Neil Josten
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 02:28:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19736500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justdk/pseuds/justdk
Summary: Neil wakes up and doesn't know where he is





	Close Call

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Andreil Week 2019 Day 2: fluorescent lights

The first thing Neil sees when he opens his eyes are the harsh fluorescent lights overhead. They’re similar to the ones in his dorm room but he’s not in the dorm. He’s not sure where he is but the ceiling is different and the room smells weird. Neil blinks his eyes and tries to make sense of things but his brain isn’t up to speed yet and that’s a problem. All of his well-honed survival instincts tell him it’s a problem that he doesn’t know where he is, that his brain is sluggish, that his body feels… detached or distant or… not right.

Neil turns his head to the side and sees Andrew. The nebulous panic that had been gathering in his mind dissipates like a puff of smoke. Andrew’s here so it will be all right.

 _Here_ now has a context: a hospital bed, mostly likely in the ER. Andrew sits in a plastic chair next to the bed, his eyebrows scrunched together as he types away on his phone, his mouth busy chewing a wad of gum. He looks exhausted and cranky, his face unshaven and his eyes shadowed and bloodshot. But he looks _good_ , he always does. Neil smiles to himself, thankful that – whatever new trouble he’s gotten into – it seems to have left Andrew unscathed.

Andrew looks up from his phone and catches Neil staring at him. He sets the phone aside and leans forward until his elbows are resting on the edge of the mattress.

“Hey.” Andrew’s voice is soft, barely above a whisper.

“Hey,” Neil replies. His voice sounds rusty and he realizes that he’s parched. He tries licking his lips.

“Want some water?” Andrew asks. He’s already reaching across the bed and Neil nods. Andrew retrieves a glass of water and places the straw between Neil’s dry lips.

Neil drinks until the glass is empty and the straw makes loud, gurgling noises. Andrew takes the glass away and carefully ruffles Neil’s hair.

“Thanks,” Neil whispers. He yawns, feeling sleepy and still like he’s not really in his body. “What’s – why I am here?” he asks.

There’s a look in Andrew’s eyes that makes Neil wonder if they’ve had this conversation already. Andrew picks up Neil’s hand, cradling it between his own. His palms and fingers are rough, calloused and dry and warm. Neil shivers, feeling anchored by the touch when the rest of his body seems so far away.

“You were in a hit and run,” Andrew says. Anger tinges the words, making his tone harsh. “You went out for your morning run around campus and someone hit you down along Beechwood.” Andrew’s fingers tighten around Neil’s hand, squeezing hard. “Another college student found you and called 911, the hospital called me, and here we are.”

The explanation sounds rehearsed. Neil wonders how many people Andrew’s had to tell, wonders how many times Andrew’s told him this. He can’t remember anything since last night. Pizza with the team, reading for class, cigarettes with Andrew and turning in early, not that they had gone to sleep right away. His last memories are of being with Andrew, laughing against his mouth and touching the soft, short hair at the nape of his neck. Of Andrew kissing his throat and running his hands over Neil’s scarred sides.

“Neil?” Andrew leans over him, looking directly into his eyes. “Did you hear me? Why do you have that… _look_ … on your face?”

“Hmm.” Neil wriggles his fingers in Andrew’s grasp. “Just thinking about last night.”

Andrew rolls his eyes, the tips of his ears going pink. “God, you said that last time, too.” He tips forward and rests his forehead against Neil’s. He’s quiet for a long moment and Neil enjoys having him close. Andrew’s breath smells like the nicotine gum he chews when he can’t get away for a smoke break, and under that there’s the faint smell of coffee. “Neil.” Andrew whispers, his lips brushing Neil’s cheek. “You could have died this morning. On a fucking _jog_. Do you understand? Is any of this getting through to you?”

Andrew’s voice is still quiet but there’s an edge of desperation. Neil doesn’t know what to say or do. The information isn’t hitting him, not yet. It still feels like a dream or a hallucination. If he could remember it happening then it would be real but he doesn’t remember. And he can’t feel any pain, just a messy, cottony sensation in his brain. Neil wants to reach out for Andrew but his arm feels too heavy to move and he’s too tired.

“Did I – am I hurt… anywhere?” Neil asks, half afraid of the answer.

“Now he asks,” Andrew huffs, his breath warm on Neil’s cheek. He sits up and fusses with Neil’s blankets. “You’re bruised up from head to toe but no broken bones, no fractures, no sprains. The doctor called it a miracle.” Andrew pulls a face. “Seems like the car came up on the sidewalk and clipped you, sending you down into the ditch. You were knocked unconscious and were still out when you were found. Everyone says you’re lucky that we’re going through a drought otherwise you might have drowned if there had been water in the ditch.” Andrew shakes his head, letting go of Neil’s hand to scrub at his face. “Drowned, Neil. In a fucking ditch. I swear to God I would have brought you back to life and killed you if that had happened.” Andrew’s venting now, his voice raised and intense and so, so angry. “We’re ‘lucky’ you didn’t break your neck or bash your brains out on a rock or land in a nest of needles. You survive the mafia and yakuza and get taken out by a random drunk driver on a Thursday morning?” Andrew glares at the ceiling. “What kind of fucking world—”

Neil gets his limbs to cooperate and reaches up, cupping Andrew’s face in his hands. Andrew startles out of his rant and looks at Neil with wide eyes.

“Hey,” Neil says, “I didn’t die.” Andrew blinks at him, staring in incomprehension before his angry expression melts and his stiff posture crumples and he leans into Neil’s touch. Neil pushes his fingers into Andrew’s messy hair, pulling on the soft strands in a way he knows relaxes Andrew. “I’m too annoying to die, remember?” Neil gently tugs Andrew down until his head is pillowed on Neil’s chest, his ear over Neil’s heart. “Death doesn’t want to put up with me any longer than he has to so every time someone tries to take me out he just denies them.” Neil grins. It’s something that the team has theorized about while getting drunk and watching horror movies.

“Death is just scared I’ll come down there and kick his ass,” Andrew grumbles.

Neil laughs a little. What else can they do but joke about it when he’s yet again had a too close call?

They stay like that until the nurse comes to check on Neil. The nurse decides that Neil is good to go home and gives Andrew instructions for looking after Neil. Apparently Neil has a concussion and won’t be able to go to practice for the rest of the week, which is bullshit. He’s also been excused from Friday classes; he’s not going to complain about that. After the nurse leaves Andrew helps Neil get dressed. Neil has to hold onto Andrew’s shoulders to keep his balance, stepping carefully into his running shorts and trying not to wobble as Andrew pulls them up over his hips. Andrew mutters under his breath about the crime of someone trying to take out ‘dat ass.’ Neil snorts and sits on the edge of the bed, holding his arms up while Andrew slips on his shirt. Last of all he puts on his armbands and Andrew kneels down and ties his shoes.

They slowly make their way out of the ER with Neil leaning heavily on Andrew. It’s true he’s been in far worse condition – like when he spent those hellish days at Evermore – and managed to carry himself along. But now he has Andrew and Andrew has him. The burdens they’ve carried and the problems they encounter can be shared, the load lessened.

Neil holds onto Andrew’s shoulder, glad of Andrew’s strong arm around his waist as he’s lowered into the passenger seat of the Maserati. Andrew buckles him in and Neil grabs his hand, squeezing. Andrew’s other hand is braced on the headrest. His hair falls over his forehead and Neil can’t stop staring. How did he get so lucky?

“Hey Andrew?” Neil asks. “Yes or no?”

The hard line of Andrew’s mouth softens just a little. “Yes.”

Neil tilts his head and presses his lips to Andrew’s and thinks _thank you thank you thank you_

**Author's Note:**

> I've been binge reading the Cut & Run series so ofc I had to write hurt/comfort. Also channeling my awful ER experiences
> 
> you can find me on tumblr @dkafterdark


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